Just a Little Change, & Digging a Little Deeper, In a Whole New World
by AngelFace273
Summary: A series of one-shots set in genderbended universes of the Disney Princesses. You will find here snippets of some scenes, reimaginings of others, and a look into some that were missing. Irregular updates. Requests are welcomed, but not guaranteed a chapter.
1. Cinderallen and Princess Charlotte

Cinderella and Prince Charming have become Cinderallen and Princess Charlotte. This a missing scene from the movie. Please enjoy.

Chapter 1:_ So This Is Love..._

* * *

Princess Charlotte was not a patient woman, and so she couldn't help but alternate between sighing out the window and pacing a trench into the floor, all the while berating herself for acting like a love-sick idiot.

All Charlotte had wanted was to see the man who had stirred her heart at the ball again (and maybe even get a name out of him this time). Not a few of the nobles in the court thought her silly to be so set on a man she had only known for one night, but Charlotte had felt something she never had before that night. It was a spark, something almost magical, and she was positive he had felt it too. What was so wrong about wanting to explore that spark further, and maybe even see it turn into love? It's not like she was actually going to marry him straight away, nevermind what her father's "Royal Decree" said.

So maybe she _had_ been a little hasty and overzealous in proclaiming that she wouldn't rest until she found the man who had left behind his peculiar glass ring. How was she supposed to know that her father would blow the whole thing out of proportion and make it a contest for her hand in marriage?

_Alright, I really should have seen it coming from the romantic sod,_ she reflected with equal parts irritation and affection. _He did throw an entire ball just in the hopes that I'd fall in love. Celebrating my return, my foot._

"Though why on earth he thinks it's a good idea that I stay behind during the search, I'll never know," she muttered, switching again from pacing to staring out the window. "I'm the one who knows best what he looks like."

Of course, Charlotte wasn't really worried that the wrong would fit the ring. As much as the King pushed for a marriage and heirs to the throne (read: grandchildren to spoil), he would never actually _force_ his only daughter into it. She knew that if the wring man was presented to her as the one to whom the glass ring belonged, she could and would refuse him and have the search continue.

What did worry her was that _no one_ fit the ring so far. One or two men to reject would not have been at all unusual. In fact, the princess had been expecting to have to turn away at least a few men – her mystery man's hands had been more or less of average size and shape; nothing at all strange about them. But according to the updates the Grand Duke regularly sent her, every single man who tried on the ring had, with no question about it, hands either too large or too small to fit it.

The whole thing set her quite on edge, and the more time passed the more she worried that this mystery man would never be found.

_If the whole court hadn't clearly seen him dancing with me,_ she thought, finally collapsing into a chair. _I'd have started to worry that he was merely a dream, or a ghost…_

Suddenly, her musings were interrupted by frantic knocking at the door.

"Your Highness!" cried the pageboy on the other side. "I have news from the Grand Duke!"

"Come in then," the princess called back, straightening up in her seat. Her heart threatened to burst from her chest with its pounding. She would have expected the now-regular "No luck just yet" report from the Duke, but the messenger sounded so excited–

The boy bounded in, barely remembering to sketch the briefest of bows. "Your Highness," the page said with a huge grin. "The Duke is back, and he's brought a man with him!"

Charlotte all but leapt out of her chair, and her heart decided that her throat would be an excellent place to reside for the time being.

"Where are they?" she demanded.

"The private reception room–" she didn't wait for him to finish and rushed out of the room, barely restraining herself from going into a full-on sprint. After all the anxiety and worry over the whole situation, she didn't want to wait any longer than she had to.

_Though if it's not him,_ she thought as she approached her destination, slowing in the process. _I may have to throw something._

Taking a moment to compose herself, Charlotte took a deep breath and opened the door.

The two men in the private reception room had their backs to her, but turned at the sound of the door. She absently noted the Grand Duke's presence, but most of her attention was on the other man.

He wore a simple peasant's outfit in blue and varying shades of brown. He was on the lean side, with rather delicate-looking features, though there was a quiet confidence in the way he stood that made him appear slightly broader than he actually was. Coupled with his pale skin, dirty blonde hair, and cerulean-blue eyes, he looked almost like a porcelain doll.

Charlotte smiled softly. Even without the glass ring sitting perfectly on his right hand, she would have known him anywhere.

"Ah, my Lady," the Duke was beaming fit to burst. "Your Highness, allow me to present Master Allen Tremaine."

The couple each stepped forward, eyes only on each other. Allen – oh, how nice it was to finally have a name! – gently took her hand and placed a feather-light kiss on it with a shy smile.

"It's an honour to see you again, Your Highness," he murmured with a small wry grin, and her heart actually fluttered at the sound of the same musical voice that had hummed along to the music as they danced at the ball. Distantly, she noticed that he had yet to let go of her hand.

"It's an honour to finally have your name, Master Allen," she shot back with a grin of her own, an eyebrow raised. He grimaced slightly.

"I've been known as 'Cinderallen' for man years now."

With a curious tilt of her head, Charlotte asked, "Which would you prefer?"

A thoughtful look on his face, he replied, "The latter, actually. I've been Cinderallen for so long, I almost don't remember being Master Allen Tremaine."

The princess was trying to decide which part would be best to ask about first – life as Cinderallen or life as Allen Tremaine – when the Duke reminded the pair of his presence.

"Well then!" he announced, startling them out of their little private bubble. "I believe I shall go inform His Majesty of our return. He will want to begin discussing wedding plans as soon as possible. Your Highness, Master Al-Cinderallen," he corrected himself as he bowed out of the room.

It was quiet for a moment as Charlotte and Cinderallen stared in the direction the Duke had left. They took one glance at each other, and promptly burst into giggles.

"No offense to you or your father," Cinderallen told her as their laughter died down. "But I believe we should stall those wedding plans for a bit. One dance at a ball does not a marriage make."

Still grinning, she let out a small sigh of relief. "And here I was wondering how to convince you to wait until we had more than that dance to go on," she agreed. "My father can be a little silly in his romanticism. He probably thinks we fell head over heels in love the moment we laid eyes on each other."

He ducked his head with a tiny blush. "Well, I should hope he's not too far off the mark," he murmured. "Because I think I could definitely fall head over heels for you, eventually."

With a happy grin, Charlotte moved closer to lean against his chest, and Cinderallen gently wrapped his arms around her waist with a smile of his own.

The princess sighed happily and relaxed into the embrace of her (hopefully soon) new beloved. A passing thought flew through her head: _So this is love…_


	2. Prince Rampion and Myrtle Fitzherbert

Princess Rapunzel and Eugene Fitzherbert (aka Flynn Rider) have become Prince Rampion and Myrtle Fitzherbert (aka Fiona Rider). This is the scene where Rapunzel reveals her hair's healing powers to Eugene. Please enjoy.

* * *

Myrtle Fitzherbert, better known as the beautiful and stunning Queen of Thieves Fiona Rider, could honestly say that this was the weirdest day of her entire life.

All she had wanted was to steal a crown, ditch the pervy Stabbington Brothers (really?), hide out in that convenient mysterious tower, and be so much closer to an early retirement on her own private island. Nowhere in that list was there any mention of playing chaperone to some pretty boy with _ridiculously_ long hair (she's not jealous, of course not, who would be jealous of _fifty feet of hair_? Even if it was incredibly soft and shiny - damnit).

Now she's sitting at a fire, after almost drowning, with the same guy who apparently has magic glowing hair.

Which was being wrapped around her injured hand.

"You're being strangely cryptic as you wrap your magic hair around my injured hand," she told him warily. She winced when the hair rubbed the wound the wrong way.

"Sorry! I'm sorry!" Rampion (and what kind of name was that? Sounded like some kind of disease…) cringed in sympathy. "Now, just don't… don't freak out. Please."

Fiona glanced back down at the hair, starting to feel worried. What exactly was it going to do other than glow that would freak her out? Come alive?

_...For the love of god, please don't let it come alive,_ she thought frantically. She looked up at Rampion to see him take a deep breath and begin to sing.

"_Flower gleam and glow,"_ his voice was a warm, light tenor, and if she wasn't so concerned about just what that song was going to do Fiona actually might've enjoyed hearing Rampion singing to her. Just as in the cave, his hair began to glow pure gold, like sunlight, at the roots and down his back.

"_Let your power shine,"_ Fiona had almost forgotten that the river of hair was snaked around the campsite, and almost jumped when the gold magic reached the hair sitting right behind her. She followed it with her eyes, transfixed.

"_Make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine,"_ The chameleon (frog) caught her attention as the magic passed him. He had one of the smuggest looks she had ever seen on his face, and when he knew he had her attention he gestured to look at her hand.

_"Heal what has been hurt, change the fates' design,"_ By this point, the glow had reached the section of hair wrapped around Fiona's hand. As she watched anxiously, the glowing hair became pleasantly warm, and her hand began to tingle. It didn't hurt, wasn't even uncomfortable, but that just made her a little more nervous.

"_Save what has been lost, bring back what once was mine. What once was mine,"_ Though she would completely deny it later, Rampion's last note sent a pleasant shiver up her spine. The glow faded quickly, and Rampion opened his eyes again, peering at her anxiously.

Warily, Fiona raised her hand and unwrapped the hair from it. Then she choked back a scream.

The wound was _gone_. Not scabbed over, not faded, but gone, as if she was never injured. A little hysterically, she checked the rest of her hand in case it had just moved or something. Then she noticed something else. The thief knew for a fact that she had at least two or three small scars on this hand. Every single one of them were gone too.

_I think I'm going to scream now_, she thought numbly. She took a deep breath for that scream—

"Please don't freak out!" Rampion jumped in, taking her not-healed-by-freaking-_magic_ hand in both of his with a pleading expression.

The scream turned into a squeak, and no, no she was not affected by his hands on hers, nope. Definitely not affected by the warm hands that were cradling her hand as gently as if she was a skittish animal. Nope, not affected one bit.

"I'm not freaking out," she babbled. "Are you freaking out? No, I'm just rather interested in your hair and the magical qualities that it possesses, exactly how long has it been doing that by the way?" Trying to fight off panic, Fiona wasn't sure exactly what to do with herself. Rampion was still holding the one hand, and she started to run her other hand through her hair before remembering that _magic had been used on it_. So she just stuck her hand between her knees and looked at her companion with a hysterical expression.

"Forever, I guess," he replied with a sympathetic smile, which surprisingly helped calm her down a little. He pulled his hands away from hers as he grew more serious.

"Mother said that when I was a baby, people tried to cut it," he told her, and suddenly the rest of Fiona's panic disappeared. "They wanted to keep it for themselves. But, once it's cut," Here Rampion pulled the hair at the nape of his neck to reveal a small curl of brown hair. "It turns brown and loses its power."

Fiona stared at that lock of brown as the implications of it sunk in. Rampion had all that hair because, in order to keep the magic, he never cut it. He lived in that tower to hide from those who would use him for that magic. He attacked her the moment he saw her in fear that she was one of them.

Something didn't add up, though. Holed up in that tower of his, she doubted that Rampion's power saw that much use. This little adventure of his proved that he valued his freedom more than the magic. If it was hindering his freedom, and it wasn't being used to help people, then why keep it? What was the use of healing magic that wasn't healing people? Why not just cut it off?

"A gift like that," the boy in question interrupted her thoughts. Her eyes darted back up to the blonde's face, which looked so _sad_, and the thief's heart went out to him. "It has to be protected. That's why Mother never let me—" he cut himself off, and tried to continue with "That's why I never left…" He turned his head away, looking like he was about to cry.

"…You never left that tower," she finished slowly as the realization sunk in. Rampion shut himself away from the world because his mother forced him to. Fiona didn't have much experience with mothers, but she did know that this wasn't right. She had only known this boy for a day, and she could see clearly how much his situation was hurting him. The blonde was so open and friendly and sociable, she could imagine how he had lived so long with only his mother and a chameleon to talk to. Shouldn't his mother have seen this too? Shouldn't his mother have either let him have happiness by helping people, or set him free by cutting his hair?

What kind of mother would condemn her child to this life?

Fiona reached out and placed her hand on his, an echo of what he had done for her earlier. He looked back at her with such melancholy eyes that she almost wanted to cry for him.

"And you still want to go _back_?" she asked. After finally getting a taste of the outside world, did he really still plan to shut himself away again?

"_No_," he burst out vehemently, but then gave an uncertain "Yes…" Finally he just sighed and dropped his head. "It's complicated," he murmured to their joined hands.

Fiona's heart clenched. _He's gonna wear himself out completely if he keeps living like this,_ she thought sadly.

Finally, Rampion removed his hands to run them through his hair with a deep sigh, and all his troubles seemed to just melt off of him then. He shot her an amused glance.

"So," he drawled, raising an eyebrow. "Myrtle Fitzherbert, huh?"

She laughed, embarrassed, and recognized the wish for a change of subject. "Oh honey, you don't want to hear the sob story of poor orphan Myrtle Fitzherbert. Too much of a downer."

Rampion just scooted closer until they were almost touching, rested his chin on his hand, and looked at her with curious and attentive eyes.

Fiona flushed a little. She couldn't remember the last time someone looked at her that way, like they genuinely wanted to know about her. "Well… There was this book. I used to read it every night to all the younger kids – _The Tales of Fianola Rider_. Wandering adventuress, expert with a blade, broke hearts everywhere she went, not that she'd really care though."

Her captivated audience grinned and asked, "Was she a thief, too?"

"Well, no," she responded, her enthusiasm dying a little as shame crept in. "Actually, she had enough money to do whatever and go wherever she wanted. And everywhere she went, men treated her with the utmost respect. And, I guess, for a girl with very few options… it just seemed like the best one."

Out of instinct, Fiona waited for the judgment and scorn, some rudeness at least. Rampion just hummed in understanding.

To help save face, she put on a grin and told him, "You can't tell anyone about this, okay? It could ruin my whole reputation."

"Ah," he replied, playing along. "We wouldn't want that, now do we?"

"Well, a fake reputation is really all a girl has, darling," she teased back. The two shared a laugh, and then Fiona made the mistake of looking directly into his eyes.

Rampion's smiling face was so warm and welcoming, even affectionate, and it was all directed at her. The thief had mimicked her idol's behavior with men and never let any of them get too close. They usually weren't worth the time to do so anyway. Somehow, Rampion was different. Looking into his happy green eyes, sparkling in the firelight, Fiona felt a warmth growing in her chest she'd never felt before in her entire life.

It took her a moment to realize that she was staring. Looking away with a light blush, she cleared her throat and stood up. "Well then, I should… um, I should…" she stammered. "I should go get some more firewood." She turned to walk away, when he called her back.

"Hey," She turned around to she him smiling sweetly. "For record, I think I prefer Myrtle Fitzherbert over Fiona Rider."

Now that light blush became a lot heavier. "Well," she mumbled, glancing down at the recently healed hand. "You'd be the first then. But thanks."

With that, Fiona (Myrtle) walked away. She had a lot to think about.


End file.
